


Hangin' on the Telephone

by tyroneslothrop



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Angst, Crime, Drugs, Humor, It's not very sexy phone sex, Kinda, M/M, Phone Calls & Telephones, Phone Sex, Smut, Song fic, Songfic, Well - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-29
Updated: 2016-11-29
Packaged: 2018-09-02 22:45:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8686264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tyroneslothrop/pseuds/tyroneslothrop
Summary: "It all starts with a phone booth ringing in the dead of night, and a voice asking Dan for someone who he wasn’t."Songfic inspired by Blondie's Hanging on the Telephone.





	

_“I'm in the phone booth, it's the one across the hall…”_

It all starts with a phone booth ringing in the dead of night, and a voice asking Dan for someone who he wasn’t.

Dan had been having a lonely pub crawl, getting old men to buy his whiskeys and then disappearing before they had a chance to say anything else. He was slightly drunk, and was waddling his way back to the bus station when the phone cut through the silence. Now here he stood, cold phone pressed to his ear, straining to hear what the man on the opposite side was saying.

“Hello, is this Officer Jones?”

“Er, no… why did you expect Officer Jones to be walking through London at this time?”

“That’s no concern of yours darling… what’s your name?”

Dan’s confused. He’s cold, drunk, horny and just wants to go home and tug one out. Who is this man?

“Er… Daniel? What’s yours?”

The man smacks his lips and draws out a ‘hmmm’, and Dan hates himself for thinking it’s hot. “Phillip, but call me Phil, darling.”

“Alright, _Phil_ ,” and Dan’s voice takes on an edge he’s never heard from himself before, “it’s been great talking to you, but I’ve got a semi right now, and as lovely as your voice is, it’s not going to help relieve matters, is it? Now, goodbye Philli-“

The man’s voice drops about two octaves, and Dan shits himself. “Are you sure I can’t help with that?”

Dan throws the phone back into the receiver and bolts home, his tipsiness left at the booth.

-

_“Oh, why can’t we talk again?”_

It happens again. For the second time, Dan hears the three rings coming from the same phone booth, striking through the air like a church bell. He throws himself to the booth, but then reconsiders. Does he really want to talk to this strange man again? What if it’s not him? The phone buzzes in his ear, ring, ring, ring…

He picks it up, against all better judgement, and presses the damp receiver to his ear.

“Hello. Officer Jones?”

“Nope,” Dan smacks his lips, “try again.”

The line is silent for a few deafening seconds, until an ‘oh’ sounds from the ear piece.

“Dan? Is that you? You’re ruining all my plans, kid.” The man chuckles.

Dan sounds indignant, “What kind of shit are you planning, here? Should I phone the police? Have you murdered?”

“Nope, but if I get any more of your attitude, I might just.”

Dan removes the receiver from his ear, and it’s almost like the man on the other end can sense it. “Wait! I was just joking, sweetie. Let’s not be rash, here.”

“Hmmph… what’s your business phoning random phone booths anyway?”

“What’s your business picking up? You know I’m not looking for you, I’m looking for Officer Jones.”

Everyone on the street is giving Dan weird glances, and he finds himself staring daggers at some judgemental old woman. God, have they never seen a phone conversation take place?

“Well, Officer Jones quite clearly doesn’t care for your shenanigans, so you’re stuck with me.”

“Lovely, wouldn’t want to be stuck with anyone else.”

Dan glances at his bag of shopping, and as he looks, his eyes wander over his own crotch. Oh… that’s why people are staring.

The man starts humming some silly tune down the receiver, and Dan hankers for an excuse to hang up and run to the nearest loo.

“Don’t leave me haaaaanging on the telephooone….”

“Er, Phil, lovely speaking to you again, but I was out shopping earlier and my microwave pizzas are going to be defrosted by the time I get home, so ta-ta, byeee…”

He knows Phil doesn’t buy it. Dan hangs up anyway.

-

Dan feels a bit like a modern Sherlock Holmes, so he does. Eyes bleary, 1AM, coffee in hand, searching the internet through a proxy.

He types in ‘Officer Jones London’, hits enter and squeezes his eyes shut. He’s a bit scared, so he is. What if this guy is a hitman? What if he gets called in to be a witness? Oh dear.

He opens his eyes and wearily scans the results. There’s one link that catches Dan’s eye, and he clicks it hesitantly. The page loads, and it’s all very 2006. Comic Sans, weird transitional gifs, yep. 2006. Obviously made by an old man.

The header reads thus:

**NEED A LITTLE WHITE POWDER PICK ME UP?**

**PHONE A PHONE BOOTH AND ASK FOR OFFICER JONES – AND I’LL PICK UP!**

Dan refuses to read further, closes his laptop and has a bit of trouble sleeping.

-

_“Your voice across the line gives me a strange sensation.”_

Dan’s stood by the cursed phone booth, mobile in hand, playing Flappy Bird. Yes, he still has it installed, so what? He’s been here for… 30 minutes? Dan has no idea now. His heart feels like it’s about to leap out his chest. What if he’s already phoned, and this elusive Jones has taken care of him? What if he never hears him again? His palms are damp, and his phone has nearly slipped out his hand twice

Then…

_Ring, ring, ring…_

Dan nearly throws his mobile to the ground in excitement, and lunges for the phone. Everyone looks at him as though he’s mad, and they’re probably right. Well, at least he doesn’t have a boner this time.

“Hello, Phil. Before you ask, this is not Officer Jones.”

“Ah, Dan…” and Dan can hear a smile on the man’s face. Can the man hear the thudding of his heart? It feels as though he can, it’s striking through his ribcage something like a bass drum. “I think I’ve given up hope on ever hearing from this Officer Jones. I rather prefer talking to you anyway. So… what are you wearing?”

Dan blushes at both of these last sentences. He looks down to his day wear, and his eyes scan his crotch. Jesus fucking Christ. Not _again_.

“Uh… clothes? Black shirt and black jeans?”

“Fascinating, truly. Listen, I was wondering. On the first night we spoke, did you manage to take care of your semi?” Dan thinks he can hear something wet and distant coming from the ear piece.

“Well, yeah, and I’ve taken care of many more since then. Why are you asking?”

“Hmm, no reason,” and yep, that’s definitely a wet noise coming from the other man, “who did you think about?”

Dan blushes, and his boner is verging on being painful. Thankfully, the street has cleared out, and no-one can see him in this mildly embarrassing state. He presses his palm on his crotch, and sighs a little bit before he can silence himself.

“That’s, ahh, none of your business. I refuse to answer.” The wet noises have since doubled their speed, and Dan is beetroot now. “Dude, are you jerking off?”

“Hmm, that’s none of your business. I refuse to answer, but…” _slap, slap, slap,_ “…keep talking, it’s getting me close.”

Dan wants to hang up. Dan should hang up. Dan’s in the middle of London, in an empty street, broad daylight with a raging boner, and the man on the other end of the line is wanking to his voice. He should hang up.

He doesn’t hang up.

“Uh… what are you thinking about?”

The reply is instantaneous. “You.”

“Dude… I’m in the middle of the street with a raging hard-on in my pants. Do you think you could hurry this up?”

“Really?” he can hear the man’s smirk, and Dan’s tempted to hang up out of spite. He doesn’t. “Relieve yourself, then.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

“Go on.”

Dan looks around. The street is deserted, and he knows he’ll only need a few tugs to get off. Suddenly, Phil starts grunting down the line, and that’s all the encouragement he needs.

He doesn’t even get his hands properly on himself before he comes, moaning and keeling over, nearly dropping the phone out his sweaty palm. It takes him a few moments to recover – thankfully, the street is still deserted – and when he finally starts to focus on the phone, all he can hear is heavy breathing.

“Uh…”

“Uh, indeed. Thanks for the good time, sweetie. Till next time.”

Phil hangs up, and Dan is stood in the middle of London, alone and embarrassed, semen stuck to his underwear.

-

_“Oh, I can’t control myself.”_

Dan has an idea. It’s probably the most intelligent thought that’s ever occurred to him. He’s been practising all day, recording his voice and playing it over, training himself to drop several octaves. He thinks he’s perfected it.

The next day, he’s waiting by the phone booth again. This is slowly becoming a familiar feeling. He notices some faces peering at him in distaste, and feels a curious buzz of déjà vu run through him. He’s not even bothered with the iPhone games this time, his mind’s a muddle, and he needs to _focus_. He feels sick to his stomach. When the fuck will he ri-

_Ring, ring…_

It doesn’t make it to its third chime before Dan picks up.

“Dan, sweetie? Is that you?”

Dan almost responds as he normally would, but manages to recollect himself. He deepens his voice and mentally prepares himself. He feels something grand and weighty settle into his bones. He feels the beginning of the end in the air.

“Dan? Uh, no. This is Officer Jones.”

“Oh, I thought you’d never pick up on me.”

“Who is this Dan person you speak of?” Dan braces himself for the answer.

“Oh, just some cute little thing who’s been picking up in your place. He’s nothing to worry about. Look, can we meet up?”

Dan nearly squeals, and he thinks Phil can hear the nerves running through his voice.

“Sure, where do you want to do this?”

“By the phone booth? Would that do?”

“Of course. Meet me tomorrow at 9PM.”

Dan hangs up. There’s sweat dripping from places he didn’t know he could sweat from. He gazes up to the blue sky hanging above him, and feels the weight of all the sunshine on his shoulders. The whites of his eyes glimmer with something akin to hope.

Today is the beginning of the end.

-

_“Hang up and run to me.”_

It’s 7PM. Dan’s at home. He’s tried on all his outfits, and has finally decided on the black jeans and black shirt he mentioned before. He’s sat in a pile of crumpled clothes, hair sticky and curly with sweat, and he’s staring at the light bulb swinging above him. Back, fourth, back, fourth… Dan should probably eat something, but he feels as though he might throw it all back up. And that wouldn’t make a good impression, would it?

At 8PM, Dan can’t take it anymore, and decides to head out. The cold winter air feels glorious against his burning skin, and he can’t wait for all this to be over. He wonders what he looks like. He’s never mentioned, has he?

Dan spends most of the journey like this, in a love-drunk reverie. Slowly, he comes to his senses, and his throat dries. Just a few more twists and corners and he’ll be at the phone booth. Well, he’ll be early, so he’ll have time to collect himself. It’s cool. Dan’s got this. It’s so cool.

Dan finally arrives after what seems like hours, and it’s not cool. There’s a pale, tall figure leaning against the booth, phone in hand. He’s playing Flappy Bird too. Funny, that. It can’t be him, can it?

He decides to hang fire and take in how he looks. Dark, floppy hair, glasses, very tall and slim. Quite handsome, if Dan says so himself, and looks nothing like a cocaine addict. He hopes it’s Phil, he really does.

Dan doesn’t have time to calm himself before the mysterious man clocks him, and beckons him with a tilt of the head. Dan gulps, and he feels a hot flush break out again. He doesn’t dare look down at his crotch, and slowly makes his way to him.

As he gets closer, the man becomes more and more beautiful. He feels like he’s being blinded, his skin tone the same as the moon. When they’re feet are nearly touching, the man smiles.

“Officer Jones? You’re younger than I expected.”

Dan gulps some more, and struggles to find enough breath to speak.

“Uh, no, not exactly…”

Phil peers at him strangely, and then it clicks. His smile turns into a smirk, and Dan wants to turn around and run.

He doesn’t.

“Daniel? You tricked me, Danny boy. That wasn’t very nice, was it?”

“Uh no, I guess no-“

Phil grabs him by the nape of his neck and kisses him. Hard. Dan struggles and then melts into it, and Christ on a bike, Phil is _good_ at this. The kiss feels like it lasts for hours, and he can hear people jeering behind them. Dan doesn’t care, and Phil doesn’t seem to give a rat’s ass either.

Finally, Phil lets go. Dan’s legs feel like jelly, and his breathing is laboured. Phil’s smirk widens some more. Dan wants to boot him in the balls, he really does.

“Well, I did want some cocaine, but I suppose you’ll have to do, hm?”

It’s the third time this week Dan’s been in the middle of London with a boner, but this time, he doesn’t care.

**Author's Note:**

> Totes ripped off Paul Auster for this opening line of this, sorry buckaroo.
> 
> Catch the movie adaption of this directed by Hitchcock, in cinemas 2020. Hope y'all enjoyed


End file.
